Restless Heart Syndrome
by Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare
Summary: Oh, the trials and tribulations of caring for two young children. Kurt and Dave find this out the hard way when Sam asks them to babysit Stevie and Stacy. .:. series of seven Kurtofsky onshots by request. rated M for ONE lemon inside.
1. Patience

**A/N: So I was having writer's block, but really wanted to compose some Kurtofsky. And so, I blogged that I wanted my fellow pirates to give me ideas, and within seconds, I had seven truly amazing ones! One being fron an Anon on here, asking for an ill!Kurt and (essentially) nursing!Dave, which I will definitely do because it's cliche yet cute, and I actually haven't tried it yet. XD**

**So here they are in a collection, seven stories for my OTP (because as much as I ship multiple pairings, I still love Kurtofsky best). **

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><p><strong>Prompt by <strong>imsofreakinsorry** on Tumblr: **"Sam is busy and can't take care of his brothers so he ask Kurt and Dave to babysitting for him."** (But didn't Sam have one brother and one sister? Oh well, I get what you mean, haha. I love this idea so much~ it's like what Puck and Quinn had to do, but cuter.)**

**Title: **Patience

**Rating: **K+

**Genre: **Humor, Friendship, Romance

**Summary: **Oh, the trials and tribulations of caring for two young children. Kurt and Dave find this out the hard way.

**Timeline: **Approximately season 3. AU after Prom Queen, though, since I don't know the future.

**Additional note: Not gonna lie, I totally had to look up Sam on Wikipedia and pick up his sibling's names, because all I could remember was the 'S' sound to one or both, but not the actual names themselves. XD**

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><p>"Kurt?" Sam approaches the brunet with a nibble to his rosy lips and an unsure glance downward. He feels so awkward and almost ashamed for having to ask for a favor like this, especially after all of the favors people have been doing for him lately.<p>

Kurt cocks his head, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag. "What is it, Sam? Is something wrong?" he asks with real concern in his voice.

The blond exhales tiredly. There are sleepless bruises under his eyes, and he looks overworked. "You…" he lowers his voice, "You know how my dad finally got a job and we're at an apartment, now? Well, lately, my parents have been working too hard to keep up on it and pay off our debt, so I've been taking care of my brother and sister constantly. But I can't this Friday; I… I have a date with Mercedes, and I can't cancel again. I really like her, and want to show her that I have time for her, too. And that means not having a 'date' where she's helping me care for my siblings, you know?"

Kurt's face lights up instantly. "So you need me to babysit? I would love to! I love that you two are starting to date, and I completely respect your wishes. Count me in; and don't worry, _no_ pay is necessary. So, when should I come over on Friday?"

Relief spreads across Sam's face. "Oh, thank you _so _much, Kurt. For everything. Come over at five, okay? And… I hope you don't mind, but I asked Dave, too. Trust me, you need two people when it comes to my brother and sister; I only manage by myself because I know them well and they love me. But semi-strangers… they act a little too hyper around them. And Dave has been a good friend to me with all of this lately, and my brother and sister like him, so that's why I asked hi–"

Kurt raises a hand to silence the other boy. "It's okay, Sam, you can stop explaining yourself. I don't mind. Dave's not my enemy anymore, remember? So it's fine. We'll take good care of them both." He winks, "Have fun on Friday for me, since I'll be toiling away with the kids~!"

Sam laughs. "I will. Thanks again, man. This means a lot to me."

"I know, Sam. It's no problem. I love kids, and your siblings are so adorable."

Laughing, Sam thanks Kurt again and pats him on the shoulder as he walks out of the choir room. Smiling a little, Kurt steps over to where Dave is still stuffing lyric sheets into his bookbag. He was essentially forced into Glee Club by Santana (they're still beards, even through the summer, Kurt notices), but he likes it here, everyone can tell. He's changed quite a lot since the same time last year, and it's both a comfort and a relief.

"So, David," Kurt addresses airly, watching as Dave's eyes flicker upward to meet the paler boy's. "We have a very important job to do together this weekend. I hope you'll behave yourself." And he smiles minutely.

Dave has a crooked smile of his own appearing on his lips as he stands and slings his bag over one shoulder. "Oh, I will. I'm more worried about _you. _Are you sure a guy like you can handle a couple snot-nosed brats?" And he's teasing (not picking on) Kurt, the soprano has to remind himself.

Kurt smirks. "Yes, I am _fully_ capable, thank you very much. I'm just worried that I'll wind up babysitting _three _snot-nosed brats instead of two."

"Hey, I take offense to that. I happen to use Kleenex, because I'm a _civilized_ brat," Dave grins, and Kurt really likes this weird relationship they have that is nearly like friendship, but not quite.

Kurt laughs, and proceeds to walk out of the room with the jock by his side. Since they're alone – the New Directions met for longer than usual today because Sectionals are coming up in three weeks and they need to come up with and rehearse their setlist, so everyone is out of the building by now – Kurt even decides to crack another joke, albeit a more personal one.

"I hope you know this isn't a date," the soprano says jokingly. "It's just a mutual event that happens to fall on a Friday night. And besides, I'm still dating Blaine."

The footballer rolls his eyes. "Pfft, I know _that, _Kurt. And I'm still technically dating Santana. Besides, what sort of date would be looking after a couple of elementary school students?" he retorts fluidly. He loops his arm through the other strap of his backpack. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye," Kurt says, parting ways with the other boy as they go off toward their separately parked cars, on on either side of the lot. As he starts his baby, Kurt murmurs to himself, "Friday is going to be interesting." And there's an unexplainable smile on his lips.

00o00

Come Friday evening, Kurt shows up at the apartment complex and gets buzzed in. When he reaches Sam's apartment door, it's already opening up for him. Sam is there, and in the background, Kurt hears Dave's voice paired with a mingling of two younger voices.

"Kurt! Hey, thanks again for doing this, man," Sam says tiredly, but he looks more rested than before, and his clothes are nicer than his usual shirts and hoodies for school. "I'll give Mercedes your regards."

The soprano winks and pats Sam on the back as the blond boy reaches for a light jacket to wear. "Thanks. I was going to ask you to, since I didn't get a chance to coo over her excitement for this date like I wanted to."

Sam blushes a little, smiling broadly. "Yeah. And I just can't tell you how happy I am; she's so different from Quinn, but in all the good ways. She gets my jokes and references and likes my impersonations and always laughs at my jokes. Quinn never did any of that; she always acted annoyed with me. But Mercedes… she actually likes me for _me_, you know?"

Kurt place shis hand on Sam's shoulder, mindful of how Dave is entering the room, a hand of each of Sam's siblings in his. He continues, "I know. And let me tell you, she didn't see it coming, but she really likes you, too. So get going!"

"Going, going!" Sam chuckles, blushing minutely again as he turns and heads out the door, locking it behind him with the apartment key. And then Kurt and Dave are left with Stevie and Stacy.

"So, are you guys hungry yet?" Kurt says, leanign voer with his hands on his knees so he may look the kids in the eye.

"I am!" Stevie pipes up, raising his hand as he lets go of Dave's.

Stacy giggles and smiles. "Yeah, me too. Are you gonna make pizza, Kurt?" she wants to know. "'Cause I wanna help. Sammy taught me how to pre-heat the oven!"

Kurt nods. "Sure, you can help. Pizza is what Sam told me to make, so let's head into the kitchen and get cooking."

The personal-pan-sized crusts are frozen, but the pizza itself actually has to be assembled. There is marinara sauce in the 'fridge, as well as pepperoni, sausage, black olives, and cheese.

The four huddle in the smal kitchen, bringing ingredients on plates and in hands to the kitchen table. They spread everything out, and the two children kneel on the chairs while Dave and Kurt stand behind them, overlooking their pizza-making process. Apparently, it's cheaper to but the personal-pan crusts and incredienets separately at someplace like Cost Co than it is to buy frozen pizzas at somelace like Meijer, and the kids like making it better anyhow.

"Oops! I'm sorry, Davey; I got sauce on your arm. Here, lemme get it," Stacy says, reach over with a napkin and wiping the smudge of orangey-red from his forearm.

Dave laughs and lets her do it. "Thanks, Stace. Just try to be more careful, okay?"

"Oh, sure…" she says, and then flicks a piece of olive from his pizza onto his shirt.

"Hey!" Dave exclaims, "This means war, you know!"

On the other side of the table, Kurt occasionally glances up from helping Stevie to smile warmly at Dave. It's nice to see him acting carefree like this, being himself. He's playful and sweet if allowed to be, and he's great with kids.

But Kurt snaps out of it once shredded cheese starts being flung all over the place. "Hey, now! Knock it off!" but he's laughing. "I'm making you clean that up, David Karofsky! Stop flirting and help me get these pizzas in the oven."

"Flirting?" Dave says with a chuckle, one brow quirking at Stacy as her lightly chubby cheeks turn pink and she looks away, hiding her face in her hands, a splitting smile on her face. Dave scoops up the pizzas and whisks them away, Stevie beginning to call out a teasing rhyme about how 'Stacy has a crush on Davey.'

"See? I knew I would have to babysit all three of you," Kurt jokes as he takes the pizzas one by one and lays them out on the middle shelf of the oven. He glances up as Dave as the taller boy leans over him to slide the last pizza in himself. Their shoulders bump, and Kurt feels a flush of something wash over him. He shakes it off, closing the oven door. Dave, one step ahead of him, is already towering over him, setting the timer on the stove.

"Aw, we're just having fun," Dave answers as he types in the digits for fifteen minutes. Turnign to Kurt, he adds lightly, "Besides, I plan on cleaning it up while the pizzas cook. You can set up a movie in the family room; something animated should do, although Stace prefers Disney and Stevie seems to lean toward Dreamworks. Like, last time I checked, Stacy's favorite is _Tangled,_ and Stevie is going through his _Sinbad _phase."

Kurt nods, smiling a little. "All right. I'll have them compromise on something, I suppose. You just take care of that cheesy mess over there. And for acting immature, you can put away the food and wipe the table, too."

"Such a taskmaster!" Dave retorts, but while his tone sounds like a whine, his eyes are crinkled with a smile.

Kurt paces over to the family room and moves to separate the two siblings, who seem caught up in an argument.

"But I wanna watch _Lilo and Stitch_! _Shrek _is stupid!" Stacy is hollering as she wrestles with her brother, the Disney DVD in her hand while she tires to grab the other DVD from him.

"Nooo, _Shrek_ is awesome! Donkey is my favorite! You just don't like that the princess in this one is an ogre," Stevie responds with a grunt as she sits on top of him.

And that's when Kurt reaches them, lifting Stacy off of her brother with ease. "Easy, easy!" he says, "Settle down, you two! Look, we can either pick a movie we all like, or we can watch one and then the other. So, which is it going to be?"

"I _guess _I could watch something else," Stevie pouts, "Since stacy is being a stupid-head and won't let me watch _Shrek_."

"No name-calling, Steve," Kurt corrects firmly. He doesn't realize how Dave is staring over his task of wiping the table, watching Kurt affectionately as the singer handles the children like a good dad-in-training. "Now then. How about…" He glances over at the shelf of movies, his eyes scanning the titles, some by logo color only, not truly reading them. "_Titan A.E._?" He offers, moving over and picking up the DVD. It's Fox, not Disney or Dreamworks at all, but still animated, and still a good movie.

"I don't think I've watched that before," Stacy comments idly. "What's it about?"

"Oh! It's really cool," Stevie says. He explains for Kurt and Stacy, "Me and Sammy watch it all the time when you go shopping with Mom! It's about this guy whose dad made this big machine that can make a whole new Earth, and the boy has a map on his hand to take him to where his dad hid it from these blue aliens made of energy. It's super-cool, one of Sammy's favorites. Mine, too."

"Is there a girl in it?" Stacy wants to know. Naturally, young girls need a heroine or some romance in their movies.

"Yeah! She's really pretty. She has purple hair," Stevie says, giggling. "Can I show her, Kurt?" and he gestures to the DVD case.

"Sure. Here," Kurt says, happy that they might be able to agree on something after all. "I'm going to go check on the pizzas while you two decide, okay?"

And he walks away, back into the kitchen, to where David is just finishing dumping the dustbin scoop into the trash after sweeping up the pizza mess. He puts away the broom and leans against the counters as Kurt checks the pizzas through the window on the oven, the inside light casting a warm glow on his face. Dave blinks and looks away, trying not to think of anything in particular.

"You're great with kids. You actually act like an adult with them; I just act like such a kid along with them, and it's probably not very responsible of me," Dave remarks seemingly off-handedly, but he means every word of it.

Kurt glances up and turns to lean against the stove. It feels warm behind him, comfortable. "No, it's fine. It actually works better, because if it were only me here and I acted the way I do, they might not listen to me as much. You balance things out." He shrugs, not noticing how Dave's face softens. "Anyway, they aren't that hard to look after. A little rambunctious, but not poorly-behaved. They're a lot like how I imagine Sam must have been as a child." He smiles. Peering over at Dave, he asks, "Do you have any siblings, David? I don't think I know if you do. But you probably know that the only sibling I've ever had is Finn."

"Yeah, I knew that," Dave mumbles. He licks his lips before speaking again. "Uh. But I only have a sister. She's older than me by about seven years – explains why my dad looks as old as he does, huh? – so we were never on the same page, and she went off to college by the time I started middle school. So, uh, I guess you could say I don't really know what it's like, either. But it looks like it'll be about the same for Sam, too; Stacy and Stevie aren't that far apart in age, but Sam is to them. And that could mean that, like me, they might get less memories of him."

Kurt looks across the way at the two children a tad sadly. "That's a shame; siblings should be able to grow up fully together and only be a few years apart in age, in my opinion. Why to some parents wait like that?"

The jock shrugs, his eyes going around the room and trying not to look too much at Kurt, and when Kurt notices this, he frowns a little. "Who knows? I only know what I see. But hey, it happens. They seem okay with it, and I guess I'm okay with my situation, too, so what does it matter?"

"You have a point," Kurt agrees with a sigh. He jumps when the timer goes off behind him, beeping languidly. He turns around, takes out the pizzas, and puts them all on the same plates of which they were made. He carries two, David carries two, and then the four sit and eat and watch _Titan A.E._ together.

After the movie, the kids want to play make believe. They assign Dave and Stevie as Hook and a Lost Boy, respectively. Stacy wants to be Wendy, and Kurt gets to play Peter Pan. Dave has fun lifting Stacy off of her feet and dropping her onto the couch – "kidnapping" her – while she laughs the entire time. Stevie fights with Dave, and so does Kurt.

The game ends, however, when during a wooden-spoons-as-swords battle between Kurt and Dave lands the two fallen on top of one another, Kurt gasping for breath as he lands in Dave's lap on the couch, and Stacy bounces on the cushions, laughing, saying that Kurt's face is really red.

"I think it's time for bed," Kurt whispers, standing up and trying to shake the image of his face being that close to David's; the last time that happened was in the locker room a year ago, and… He shakes the thought away compeltely, clapping his hands together. "How about I read you guys a story before bed?"

"No, _tell_ one! Telling stories is so much better than reading them," Stevie answers, and Stacy nods in agreement with him.

"Okay. Care to help me out, Dave?" Kurt says lowly as he picks up Stevie and places him on his hip, watching Dave do the same with Stacy. They are nearly too old to be carried, but that doesn't mean they mind it.

"Sure. What sort of story should we tell? A fairy tale?" Dave mumbles as he sets the young boy down in his bed, and Kurt does the same with Stacy in the twin bed across the room.

"Fairy tales are boring! Can we have a story about monsters instead?" Stevie contradicts as he snuggles under his covers.

"Ew, no! Monsters are scary. Let's have one with animals in it," Stacy replies.

Somehow, animals make Kurt think of sharp teeth, and teeth reminfds Kurt of… "Darn it! We forgot to have them brush their teeth!" he suddenly blurts. He turns to Stacy and Stevie. "How about you two go brush your teeth really well while David and I come up with a story you would both like?"

"Okay!" they say in unison, and burst from their beds, turning it into a race as they scamper down the short hall to the bathroom.

Kurt sighs and plops down onto Stacy's bed. Dave comes and sits beside him. "What sort of story can we make up that will please them both?"

"How about a Western? Everybody loves Westerns, even if they say they don't," Dave answers with a shrug. "We could have a cowboy in it and a cowgirl. Siblings. They can own horses and fight a bad guy, some bandit or thief or something, who comes after their horses. And we can make the two sound like them, so they feel like they're part of the story."

He states it like it's the most usual thing in the world to do, common sense. Kurt looks at Dave in amazement. "You know, I think you would make a good father, David," he says with a half-smile. "You're good with this kind of thing. The only creativity I possess is coming up with outfit combinations. But you… you're great with stuff when it comes to kids. You said you weren't, but you are. And that's surprisngly responsible of you."

"Oh, um… thanks," Dave mutters, embarrassed, and Kurt can see the boy's ears change color from lightly tan to bright red. It makes Kurt smile knowing that Dave doesn't take compliments well. It's an _endearing_ quality.

The kids come stomping back in right then, both of them leaping into the boys' laps, Stacy in Dave's and Stevie in Kurt's.

"Do you have a good story for us?" Stacy says sweetly, looking up into Dave's face, her eyes flickering to Kurt's face for a few seconds.

"A great one," Kurt answers. He looks to Dave to start it, however. "One about a cowboy and a cowgirl, Stewey and Sally."

"Yeah," Dave grins, and the two teens start to move to place the kids in their proper beds, tucking them in as they both tell their story, alternating every other sentence or so.

Before they can get to the ending where the horses are saved (they were talking horses, which is why they were so valuable) and the bad guy (jokingly named William the Cleft Chin, to poke fun at their choir instructor) defeated, the small audience is fast asleep.

Quietly, Kurt motions for Dave to stop talking. They both creep out of the room, step by step, turning off the last of the lights (aside from the night-light, of course) as they go.

Kurt shuts the door behind them, and then he and Dave walk out into the family room together.

Dave checks his watch. "We have about twenty minutes before Sam should be home. What do you want to do 'til then?"

"Talk, I suppose? But mutedly, since they're asleep," Kurt whispers in response. He seats himself on the couch, and pretends not to take note of how closely Dave chooses to sit beside him. He begins, "So, um… I had a lot of fun tonight."

"I thought this wasn't a date?" Dave jokingly says back, but his heart isn't in the comment. Part of him wishes this could have been a date, even an unofficial one, and not merely a "job." He doesn't want to be Out, he doesn't want to be in a relationship (he's nowhere near ready for one with a guy), but he _does _like Kurt, and he can't deny that.

Kurt laughs, but his laugh is just as hollow in heart as Dave's tone. "I meant babysitting with you, Dave. Because, yes, this _isn't_ a date."

"I know. I was just joshin' ya." He exhales softly through his nose a she looks away. "Say, Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you… _happy _with Slickhead– I mean, Blaine?" Dave wants to know, his tone genuinely curiosity.

Kurt frowns a little. "Yes, of course I am. Why… Why do you ask?" he says carefully, a tad breathlessly. His eyes search Dave's profile, and he wishes the larger boy would look his way so he could see what storm is brewing behind those intense hazel eyes.

The jock doesn't say anything at first. Then, softly, he murmurs, "No reason. I just… I'm happy for you, Kurt. You've been through enough painful junk to more than earn some happiness with somebody like you." And Kurt is startled, startled enough to lean in slightly, lips parting. He's about to respond when Dave abruptly turns his head and smiles, making Kurt jerk backward with a fleeting thought of how much more attractive Dave is when he actually, truly _smiles. _"Hey, want to play a game to kill the time?"

"Uh… Sure. Yes. What game?" Kurt blinks, snapping back to himself and his proper line of thought as he straightens himself in his seat and folds his hands in his lap.

Dave points to himself with his thumb. "I'm going to say something stupid I've done as a kid, and then you'll tell me something silly you've done, back and forth, trying to beat the other person with whatever goofy, childish thing we've done. How 'bout it?"

"How uncommonly social of you," Kurt replies with a grin tugging at one half of his mouth, then the other. He can tell that he's probably the only person Dave ever opens up to like this. He nods. "But I'll play along. Shoot."

"Okay. So, when I was a kid, I once broke one of my mother's vases because I tried doing one of my dad's Tae Bo tapes, and I knocked the table it was on, and it fell. I never did Tae Bo again." He grunts and shakes his head at himself. "Seriously, it was so dumb. Feel free to laugh." He pauses, looks over at Kurt. "Now it's your turn."

Kurt laughs lightly, mainly for the comment about it _being okay_ to laugh. He says after a long breath of air out his mouth to calm his giggles, "Well, when I was very young, I would always try to walk around in my mother's heels. I though they were so pretty, but of course they were both too big for me and not meant for me in general, so I fell over a lot. I never boke anything, but I was the one who definitely got bruises." He grins. "This is nice. And it's your turn again."

"I used to play in the mud. A _lot._ To the point where my mother told me that if I ruined one more pair of clothes, that she would force me to play in the mud _naked. _…So I did. I was about three and four years old, mind you, but… still. She took _pictures._"

Kurt laughs fully this time, falling back onto the couch. When he returns to himself, able to speak again, he says with a grin, "I would always try to catch the fish that my dad brought home in buckets after fishing. One of them bit me once, so… I punched it in the face. Naturally, my tender little hand got hurt more than the fish."

It's Dave's turn to chuckle. He searches his brain for a good one. "Oh! I totally ran into the mailbox on my bike once. I saw it coming, but I was still new to a bike without training wheels, so I couldn't figure out how to dodge it properly, and I momentarily forgot to pedal backwards to brake, so… I collided in a T with the mailbox since I tried to turn sideways to evade it. I broke a rib. But the stupid part? I was _ten. _I didn't learn how to ride a bike until I was _ten, _because I was too afraid of getting hurt. And look where that got me."

"Aw, poor Davey," Kurt teases, but he means it just a little bit. Sighing, he raises a hand. "I can top that, though. Once, when I was eleven, I kissed a frog to see if I could make it turn into a prince. What eleven-year-old is that foolish or fantasical? Me. And you know what? I didn't get a prince out of the deal, just slimy lips."

Dave chuckles again, leaning forward, head bent. When his head tosses back again, he looks at Kurt with sincere fondness, like Kurt himself makes Dave happier than the humor of Kurt's story itself. Agaian, Kurt finds himself with a whorling head over being at the receiving end of that gaze. Dave utters gently, "You were jipped. You shouldda gotten a prince, Kurt. But hey, you have one now, right? Blaine the Pretty Boy. You two are great together."

"Jealous, Karofsky?" Kurt says, but he's only teasing again. He seems to do that a lot with Dave, and vice-versa.

"Nah. I said I was happy for you, and I am. I'm only jealous in the sense that I want to be Out like you guys, but I _can't_ be."

Kurt leans in again, his face showing real concern. "…Why not?"

Dave simply smiles, but it isn't his normal smile; this is a cover-up smile for something that aches him inside. Kurt knows that smile well; he uses it himself from time to time. "That's not part of the game, Fancy."

And before Kurt can say anything more, there's the sound of keys in the lock, and Sam's suddenly there, a few yards away from them. "Hey, guys!" he says at a minimum volume. "Are the animals at rest?"

"_In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lions sleep tonight…_" Kurt half-sings, standing up and gathering up his jacket and keys. "But yes, they are. And actually, they're cowfolk. They'll tell you about it in the morning. In the meantime, goodnight, Sam. We'll see you at school."

"Thanks again for doing this, guys," Sam says, giving Dave a bro-hug before giving one to Kurt as well. "And you kept everything clean, too. You're the best."

"'S nothin', Sam. Anything to help out a pal in need, right?" Dave says warmly. He smiles briefly, slides into his coat, and gets on his shoes. "See you on Monday, man. Hope your date was good." And with a nod, he starts to leave.

"I hope it was, too," Kurt says, lingering, but not before his eyes follow David out of sight. When the refocus on Sam, Sam is dreamy-eyed himself.

"It was amazing. _Mercedes_ is amazing. She kept making jokes about the other people in the theatre before the movie began, and one of her jokes ended up being true! We laughed about it all the way home, haha. And at dinner – um. You know what? I'll let her fill you in on the details, since you two are inseparable. But right now, I really need to go to bed. I'm wiped. Thanks again."

"Sure, anytime. You have a good night, Sam." Kurt responds, smiling gently, before taking his leave as well.

Outside of the apartment complex, Dave is fumbling with his keys outside of his car, as if stalling. Kurt grins a little to himself before stepping over to where Dave stands, since his own car is parked one spot away.

"Want to do this again? I'm sure Sam will need us to, and we make a good team," Kurt remarks casually.

Dave seems to jump in his skin before looking over at Kurt, a slow smile making its way onto his lips. "Yeah, of course. And we can finish our game. I want to beat you with my stupidity."

Kurt laughs a bit. "Totally possible. Let's do it." He pauses, an awkward silence befalling them before Kurt chooses to break it. His voice is soft as he says, "Goodnight, David."

"Oh, uh… g'night, Kurt. S-see you… later," he mumbles, and then slips into his car.

Kurt nods, waves a little, and then goes to his own vehicle, the stars above oddly clear, the wind a little warmer than it was, and the moon shining brightly. Utter peace, he realizes idly as he starts his car. There is… _peace,_ somehow.


	2. The First Step Is A Doozy!

**Prompt by **fuckyeahnatesmith **on Tumblr: **"Kurt corners Dave one day in the Choir Room. Dave was singing One Step At A Time (The acoustic version) by Four Year Strong. Kurt pries, trying to find out why Dave just can't come out yet, and then Dave finally just breaks down and starts crying and explains to him why. Parents would kick him out, he's also not outing himself while dating Santana because she needs him as much as he needs her. Something along those lines. OMFG. So, in that fact, Dave explains to kurt that no matter what, he puts others in front of himself. That's why he couldn't just come out. Especially because he was still dating Santana, and then people would start asking around and rumors and everything, and they'd eventually find out about Santana as well. Hit me like a sack of bricks because you see Santana freak out when Dave is just standing there. You can see it in her face, the question 'Oh shit. If he dances with Kurt, he's out. And if he's out, then...OH NO.'"

**Title: **The First Step Is A Doozy!

**Rating:** K+

**Genre:** Angst, Hurt/Comfort

**Summary:** _Sometimes it's hard to say the right thing the right way on the hardest day of your life._

**Timeline:** Approximate time of the season finale, post-Nationals, at the end of the year. In fact, the last day of school their junior year. AU after Prom Queen.

* * *

><p>A sound wafts from the choir room like a scent: alluring, faint but growing stronger, and it gets better and better as Kurt nears it.<p>

It brings him into the empty room, and really, Kurt doesn't know how he managed to forget his backpack on the last day of school, but it wound up being a happy accident anyhow, because it's led him here.

"_One step at a time  
>One foot in front of the other<br>I'm gonna get through this one way or another  
>'Cause I know it's warmer where you are<br>'Cause no matter how far the view  
>I still always look up to you…<em>"

There's an acoustic guitar mixed with the straining sound of the person's voice, as if they are on the brink of tears, but not crying just yet, because their voice is still dry and clear.

"_Sometimes it takes a second to sink in –"_

"David?" Kurt more gasps than says as he enters the room, simultaneously spying both the boy in question and the forgotten messenger bag in the corner near his usual chair. Dave himself is in the center of the room, having a jamming session with himself, but his face is terribly forlorn and as soon as he hears his name, he ceases nearly all motion. It takes Kurt a moment to see that Dave is still breathing.

"Kurt," Dave responds with a weak voice, and Kurt is suddenly brought back to that day in the hallway a few weeks prior. The jocks goes on as he hastily sets down the guitar and returns it to its place with all the other band equipment, "I didn't hear you come in. What are you doing here? School's already let out. The year's over."

"I… I know," Kurt says slowly, making his way through the room to pick up his bag. "I came back for this. I forgot it, and it has my yearbook in it. That's my excuse; but what's _yours? _Were you… were you just singing?"

Dave looks mildly surprised. "Oh. Uh. Yeah, I… I guess I was."

Kurt keeps his tone and face calm. He picks a chair in the first row nearest to Dave and sits down in it, his legs crossing, hands resting under his thighs. "It was tragically beautiful. What song was it? I don't recognize it."

"'One Step At A Time' by Four Year Strong. –Look, Kurt, you should go home."

"So should you," the slighter boy counters fluidly. "We can leave together, if you like. You can escort me one last time, like you had before Prom." He doesn't miss how Dave flinches at the word 'Prom.' "In fact, you can even go as far as to tell me why you were singing that song, David. People don't choose songs to sing to themselves unless they feel the lyrics of it. And by the sound of it, you were singing something from deep in your heart. What's on your mind?"

"I dunno, Kurt… I just was singing 'cause I felt like it and it's a song I know, that's all. Maybe all I was doing was thinkin' about joining this stupid club next year. Why are you pushing this?" Dave retorts, a bit on edge. He Sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That came out wrong."

"I'd say so. You fell back into your default jerkiness for a minute there," Kurt answers with a defensive tilt of his head. He looks pointedly at the other boy, satisfied when Dave meets his gaze. "Look, Dave, I know I'm probably the last person you want around right now, but I'm here and I know enough about you – the _real _you – to hear you out. No one is going to overhear, and I might be able to help. What's wrong? Why can't you tell me, or come Out, or even finish a song because I'm here to hear it?"

And that's when it happens: Dave Karofsky, for the third time this year, breaks down in front of Kurt Hummel. The first time he broke, he kissed Kurt and dashed off sniffling. The second time he shattered, he bore his heart and soul to Kurt by apologizing sincerely and crying. And this time…

"I… I can't, Kurt," he sobs, shoulders hunching and his face being buried in his hands. "My… my mom, she… she's not like my dad. My dad, he'll stand by me and not care if I'm gay, but my mom? She'd scream and yell and disown me, I just know it. She always sees gays on TV and says how disgusting they are, and my dad always has to calm her down and tell her that they aren't disgusting, they're just normal people who happen to love the same gender, and that it's the only difference. And Santana… I can't leave her alone, Kurt. She can't be alone with her secret like I was with mien before she came along. She… she needs me. She's been a friend to me, believe it or not. And… and I just… I couldn't take the pressure of coming Out, Kurt. I'm not built for it like you are."

"Built for it?" Kurt parrots softly. "What do you mean, Dave?" And he's moved closer, scooting his chair flush in front of the huddled jock, his arm soothing rubbing circles on Dave's back.

"You're so much stronger than I am," Dave croaks, hiccupping lightly at the end. "You… you took all that abuse – me, the Prom thing, all of it – and you just… you took it in stride and toughed it out and still kept your game face on. Okay, so you went to that school for a while, but that was my fault. Anyone would have left after what I did. B-but, even so… you're still _you, _Kurt," Dave says, sniffling as he finally looks up and locks gazes with Kurt.

Their faces are close enough to feel the heat radiating off of each other, and if Kurt moves another two inches inward, theirs noses would touch tips. His hand stills its ministrations on Dave's back, and his eyes search the red, watery ones of the larger boy.

"You never lost sight of who you were, even after all that pain. But… I don't even know who I am, Kurt. I lost myself a long time ago. And for a while, I thought finding him would mean denying that I'm… I-I'm gay, that leaving the chance that I'm straight and in my mother's eyes, 'normal.' But I think I accept that much about myself. But I can't present it to anyone else, y'know? Not… not until I can find the rest of myself and become stronger, like you," he murmurs in a hushed tone, his eyes leaving Kurt's whenever he speaks of himself, but reconnecting whenever he refers to Kurt.

"You know," Kurt remarks gently as he continues his comforting rubs on Dave's shoulders over his shirt, "I'm not as strong as I seem. Why do you think I ran away? I'm hurt all the time because I'm out. But I'm able to keep that 'sense of self' you mentioned because I _am _mostly myself with everyone else. I try not to hide, pretend, or hide. If you just did that, David – if you just acted as tender as you actually are – I'm sure people would like you just as much, even more. How come you only act that way around me, though?"

"Because you get me," Dave says with a bitter laugh, leaning back and forcing Kurt to drop his hand. He rubs his eyes, then looks at Kurt. "You probably understand more about me than I do right now. You're really intuitive, you know that?"

Kurt smiles the faintest bit. "I'm somewhat aware, yes." His face falls again as he looks at Dave intensely. "Do you want to know something else?"

Dave exhales shakily, eyes adverting their gaze. He wets his lips and asks, "Sure, I guess. What is it?"

"You're a selfless person, Dave. You might not think so – I can tell by the way you talk about yourself – but you're thinking of Santana over yourself, and your mother over yourself. You don't want to disappoint or hurt either one of them."

The closeted jock stares at him, his mouth gaping slightly. "You… you really think that?"

"Of course I do," Kurt says slowly. He reaches out and takes Dave's hand in his, and he notes that Dave is not unable to remove his gaze from their locks hands, as if shocked that Kurt would willingly touch him like that. "In fact, I wonder: did you not dance with me because you didn't want to hurt Santana who was standing right there, about to sing?"

Dave nods dumbly. "Y-yeah. I… I just knew that if I chose right then and there to do it, when I'm supposed to be her date and everything, she… she might get Outed, too, and being the girl she is, I don't think she could take it as well with people as I could, and I can hardly take it myself. I just… have this sinking fear of that blackmail of us knowing each other's secrets blowing up in her face and not mine. It just… seems so wrong that way."

Kurt nods slowly, understandingly. He gives Dave's hand a squeeze. "You're so different than I thought you were, David. And now I fully understand why you can't come Out yet. It makes sense: your mother, Santana, your own insecurities." He releases Dave's hand and looks into his eyes, and for once, Dave holds Kurt's gaze. Kurt's expression crumbles, and he nearly cries. His voice cracks as he says, "I just _wish_ I could help you more."

"Trust me, Kurt," Dave murmurs as he stands up and keeps Kurt's gaze as he helps the smaller boy stand as well, "You've already helped me more than I could've ever asked for from you."

Kurt smiles minutely. "I'm glad. But you know, Dave..."

"…Huh?"

"You really should join Glee. You have a raw talent there."


	3. Awkward Welcome

**Prompt by **Anonymous** on Tumblr:** "Dave's offiicial presentation at the Hudmel residence!" **(This anon was so cute and shy! I love them, whoever they are.)**

**Title: **Awkward Welcome

**Rating: **T

**Genre: **Family, Humor

**Summary: **He really hadn't expected the sort of reaction he got the second he stepped foot into the Hummel-Hudson household…

**Timeline: **Approximately college, a.k.a post-graduation. AU after Prom Queen.

* * *

><p>"I'm not sure about this, Kurt," I say shakily, my betraying voice just as wobbly as my footsteps and just as tremulous as my fingers. I clench my hands into fists and walk slower to regain some of my composure. How can I meet my boyfriend's family for the first time when this is the same family whose son I chased out of school just over a year ago? It's been a year, sure, but…<p>

"David, don't be ridiculous," Kurt frowns, lacing his arm through mine and holding on tight. He rubs my bicep with one hand to calm and reassure me. "Carole has no opinion of you, my dad's gotten used to the idea of us being friends, Finn doesn't care either way anymore, and they know that you aren't the same person. Besides, we're a very loving little family; we like seeing each other happy. And they know that after Blaine and I broke up, I needed some happiness. And it just so happens that, through spending time with you and seeing you come to love yourself, I came to love you, too. So you have nothing to be worried about~!"

His words settle my nerves enough to get me to exhale and stop shaking. But my heart is still racing just a bit. This will be our first date, since Mr. Hummel doesn't want a Blaine repeat. He wants to meet whoever Kurt decides to date before we even start dating. And I can see that; he's just trying to protect his son's heart.

"Ready?" Kurt asks me, smiling up at me. And I can't say 'no' to a face like that. I force an unstable smile.

"Yeah, okay. Ready."

He opens the door. There are lingering graduation decorations from last week still stuck in the corners of the doorway by tape, and I spy a lone foil balloon in the distance ("Con-GRAD-ulations!"). I stiffen on contact; someone collides with me, hugging me, as Kurt lets go and moves into the house.

The person embracing me is Finn. He drags me into the house and laughs, saying how glad he is that I'm finally Out (at least to more than just New Directions plus Blaine and my parents), and how glad he is that someone who turned out to be as "cool" as me is Kurt's new boyfriend.

A little stunned, I nod stiffly and move further inside, and Carole greets me next. "This must be the lucky man!" she says, and gives me a hug, too. What is with all the hugging? "My, Kurt wasn't kidding when he said you were handsome. But I guess I should've known; Kurt has great taste in men, right, Kurt?"

Giggling and flushing a little, Kurt nods, and then asks, "Where's Dad?"

"He'll be home from work in a second. In the meantime, David, would you like something to drink?"

Blinking, I look at Mrs. Hummel-Hudson and nod shallowly. "Uh, sure. But please call me Dave; everybody else does. Only Kurt and my dad seem to like to call me 'David,' and I have no idea why."

"I just like how it rolls off my tongue," Kurt shurgs, and Finn laughs. They guide me to the kitchen, and I keep thinking how nice this house is; all the warm earthtones, all the subtle-but-classy décor. Looks like something Kurt collaborated with his stepmother to create for their new house.

"So, are you prepared, Dave?" Finn grins mischieviously, handing me a can of soda. I take it, pop the top, and take a slurping sip before I bother to reply.

"Prepared for what?" I want to know. I raise the soda can to my lips again as he answers me.

"You know," Finn says, lowering his voice so only I hear him, "For Kurt's dad to give you the 'now don't you dare think of having sex with my son!' speech," he explains.

And I start coughing and sputtering, Mountain Dew spraying al over the wood floor as I hack and hack from inhaling too sharlpy while drinking.

"Whoa! Finn, honey, what did you say to poor Dave to make him choke on his pop?" Mrs. Hummel-Hudson frowns disapprovingly as she moves to grab a paper towel and clean up the mess on the floor.

Pounding my chest with the side of my first, I ignore the way Kurt is snickering behind his hand. I point a finger at him as I kneel down to help Mrs. Hummel-Hudson. "Don't laugh, Kurt. What he said includes you."

"Now I'm _really _curious as to what my son said," the older woman mumbles, her frown still set in place. She glances up at Finn, but he seems to have vanished; didn't want to be caught being tactless again, I see.

Once the floor is cleaned of the sticky mess, I help Finn's mother to her feet, earning a soft 'thank you' from her and a smile. Mr. Hummel chooses right then to walk in the door.

"I'm home! Is David here already?" he calls out.

"Uh, yes, sir," I say, turning around and meeting him halfway. He sizes me up with his grey-green eyes, and then grins minutely in a forced manner and holds out his hand for me to shake. He still holds a grudge, I see. Not that I blame him; I hold the same one for my past self. Kurt might have forgiven me, but that doesn't mean we've both forgotten, nor does it mean I've forgiven myself. Kurt thinks I have, but that isn't true. I can never forgive myself for any of that. It's just a relief to know that _he _forgives me.

"Well, it's nice to meet you somewhere besides the principal's office, since every time Kurt wanted to hang out with you when you were only friends, he made sure it wasn't here, under my watch. Sneakily clever boy. But I raised him to be clever, so I shouldn't complain." And he chuckles a little. "Hungry, Dave? I'm making steak. You look like a steak-lover."

"I in fact am, sir," I reply awkwardly. I glance behind me as Kurt comes up along my side.

Into my ear, Kurt whispers, "Finn told me what he said. Gaga, I'm so sorry; that's humiliating. I just hope he isn't right."

But he winds up being incorrect, thankfully. As the night progresses, we have dinner, and I try not to chat unless I'm directly asked a question because I don't want to come off as rude or interruptive. By dessert (Carole – she lets me call her that – brought home a pie), Mr. Hummel (he wo't let me call him Burt) seems to be warmed up to me, since I've been behaving myself. And by 'behaving,' I mean, 'show signs of possibly still being a bully.'

There aren't any signs to show. I really have changed, even if I was blackmailed into it at first. I'm just glad that they are being so recpetive of me, because all I want now is to go to college with Kurt, and in a way, complete my transformation.


	4. Whistle While We Work

**Prompt by **lost-energy** on Tumblr: **"Kurt and Dave find out they're working on the same place for the summer."

**Title: **Whistle While We Work

**Rating: **T (for cursing)

**Genre:** Humor, Friendship

**Summary:** When Kurt applied to the only remaining hiring store in Lima – _Office Max, of all places_ – he hadn't expected to be working alongside a schoolmate, and _Karofsky,_ no less.

**Timeline:** Summer between junior and senior years, AU after Prom Queen.

* * *

><p>After Prom, I didn't see much of Dave Karofsky. I wondered why, because before, he was escorting me to my classes as part of the Bully Whips, and I was growing used to having him walk alongside me each passing period. And while he continued the Bully Whips even after Santana didn't need the votes or publicitty anymore, I still didn't see him much. Only now and then, and he never said a word to me.<p>

I don't like being ignored or avoided, even if it's by my former bully. Because since he _is _a former, that means he isn't on bad terms with me anymore, and, I don't know, I thought he and I could at least become casual school-friends? He needs somebody who knows the truth and can help him… and I want to be that person for him. Gaga knows no one else would ever be there for the poor guy, Santana not included, since I know she's just using him.

Sighing, I will my thoughts away. Today is the first day of my first real job besides helping out my dad in his autoshop, so I need to focus on driving and clearing my mind. I need to be in perfectly functioning, working condition by the time I get there, distracting thoughts like that of my strange acquaintance and my boyfriend (because he's always on my mind) completely shoved to the background.

When I pull up to Office Max – a lame office supply store, I'm well aware, but it was the only place hiring; I wanted Old Navy or JC Penny or any other clothing store nearby, but of course I was stuck with this place because everywhere else was full – and park my car in one of the employee slots. I slip on my hideous vest complete with a nametag, and I place my ID card lanyard around my neck, and then I'm ready to go.

Walking into the store, I check in for my shift with my boss, and he instructs me on what to do (I already had a new employee orientation, but he seems to like to remind). I shrug, take the the tasks as intructed, and go off to do my business.

But when I go into the supply room in back, I gather up too many boxes of sticky tack and thumb tacks and can't see as well. And what happens? Naturally, I bump into someone on my way out. The boxes crash to the cement flooring, and one or two packages fall out.

"Shit!" the person exclaims in a familiar voice. "Sorry, I didn't mean to– _Kurt_?"

Holding my head (I hit it on one of the boxes when it fell), I peer up to find Dave Karofsky – oh wow, the situational and/or universal irony of the person of my earlier thoughts to appear right here and now at my new workplace – bending over me. He offers a hand, and I take it. Once I'm on my feet again (with a sore head), I start picking up the scattered items, and Dave helps me.

"What are you doing here?" I frown, but I feel foolish as soon as I say it.

"I work here, of course," Dave mumbles with a grunt as he lifts one of the boxes. It's so obvious; he's wearing one of the damn vests. I should've known. He continues, "Man, how did you have so many of these in your arms, dude? I'm carrying three of your, like, _seven _and it's heavy even for me!"

"I'm strong despite my size," I mutter off-handedly, like it's nothing. They really were heavy, though. I was pushing it with carrying so many, and that's probably why I couldn't see and wound up dropping them and falling over when I barely bumped into someone.

"Heh, I believe that." Dave grins. His face falls, though, as he helps me carry the supplies out to the shelves in the store to restock them. "So, um… you work here, too, huh? How come I've never seen you in here before? Aside from the fact that, well, you don't look like the office supply shopper type."

"This is my first day. And this is the only place that was taking applications, so I took it. Beggars can't be choosers when it comes to earning money for college," I answer simply.

"Oh. Yeah, I know how that is; that's the only reason why I'm working here. I'd rather be at Home Depot or something, though. They have awesome hot dogs. And, well. I kinda like house paint. Don't ask me why."

"You're oddly talkative," I remark as we set down the boxes and start unpacking them to fill the empty shelves (there had been a sale or something on tacks of all sorts, hence why they're all gone). "Espeically after a few weeks of not talking to me at all." And I sound a little bitter and cold, but I can't help it; I was a little offended and hurt, all right?

Dave's head immediately droops and he looks away. I hadn't been looking at him anyway, though. He sighs. "I know, I know…" and oddly enough, that was one of the things I said to him. He goes on, "I just… I didn't want to face you, ya know? I know I let you down at Prom. Sorry about that, man."

I sigh, my icy heart warming. I offer a small smile as I glance over at him. "No, it's okay. I get it. I shouldn't have pushed you like that. I just… didn't want to be alone out there. And after what just happened to me, I wanted more support, and I thought you could give it to me by coming out, but that was selfish."

"…Oh," he murmurs, and I don't understand why he suddenly can't look at me again. He does that a lot, lately: drops my gaze. And I can't tell if it's from shame or something else. "Well, uh, if it makes you feel any better, I felt really bad about leaving you out there like that after what happened to you with the votes and stuff. But I couldn't ruin everything else, and I was scared shitless _because _of what happened to you, and… Uh. Well. I just… I _did _want to dance with you, Kurt. I did. But your boyfriend was right behind me, and people were staring –"

His voice is hushed enough as it is, but it cuts off completely when a customer shops on the other side of the shelves in the next aisle, but close enough to be within earshot. So I cut Dave some slack and assure him as I finish stacking the shelf in front of me, "I know, David. I told you that I get it. But… thank you. I was doubting a few things, but you cleared them up for me." And I can't help the slightly devious, slightly knowing smile that reaches my lips.

He frowns at me. "And just what is _that_ supposed to mean?" he grumbles, but not fiercely; it's more like a pout.

"Nothing," I say. But really, ever since that kissing incident, I've wondered for all these months whether or not he's had a crush on me or if it's been something else. And the fact that he wanted to dance with me pretty much confirms my suspicions. And it's a little flattering, and might even be welcomed, if I didn't already have a boyfriend.

We move on to our next tasks – separate ones – and I discover that our shifts overlap a good forty minutes for three days of the week each week. That's not very long, but it's longer than I usually saw him in school at one time, so I have a feeling that wprking here is going to be both a bit of a bust and kind of…_fun. _In that entertaining, bonding way.

Because after discussing Prom, Dave seems back to his semi-usual self, and talk to me more. The poor guy must have been angsting over Prom for weeks, but now that it's settled, he's fine. And to think a place like Office Max fixed that; go figure.


	5. Number One Helper

**Prompt by** Anonymous **on Fanfiction(dot)net:** "I was wondering if you could do a drabble story about Kurt and his misfortunes. As in, he catches a cold, gets his wisdom teeth pulled, breaks his arm. And Dave is his bf of course! I think it'd be so cute."

**Title:** Number One Helper

**Rating:** K+

**Genre:** Hurt/Comfort, Romance

**Summary:** One of Kurt's worst fears isn't too different from one of Rachel's: losing his singing voice. And when he has to get his tonsils removed after a nasty flu ruined them, it takes all the healing and reassurance afterward that he won't lose his one and only gift besides his fashion sense.

**Timeline:** AU junior year in which none of the extreme bullying, spur-of-the-moment kiss, or Dalton attendance happened. And yes, that means that Kurt never met Blaine; let's pretend that they sent Mike to Dalton to spy instead, and this, BIKE CHANDERSON HAPPENED. Just kidding! Anyway, everything from season one occurred, however, so Kurt didn't like Dave for a while, but they're together now.

* * *

><p>"At least this happened over Spring Break and not during school. You have enough time to heal before Regionals and stuff, now," Dave attempts to comfort his boyfriend in the most sincere tone his vocals are capable of. He lightly touches Kurt's face, stroking down the length of his cheek. "Don't worry, Kurt. You'll be fine. Stop frowning like that."<p>

"I can't help it," the paler boy croaks, his voice frail and thin, raspy. His eyes sting from the pain of using his sore throat. He swallows a sip of water that Dave hands him in a glass, and then he continues, "I don't know what this will do to my singing voice. What if it ruins it?"

"Your tonsils have nothing to do with your vocals chords, Fancy," Dave quirks a smile, his eyes tender. He sits down on the side of Kurt's bed, reaching over to pick up the yogurt on the end table. "Now open up. You haven't eaten since the surgery yesterday, and you need _something _in your stomach. Besides, this will make your throat fele better since it's chilled and smooth and stuff."

Reluctantly, Kurt opens his mouth, jaw still sore from having it open too long the previous day when they were working on taking out his tonsils. How he got so sick in the first place is beyond him; even when Finn had mono around Valentine's Day, Kurt hadn't gotten it. But he did get a different flu afterward, and it really phlemmed up and screwed with his tonsils. But he probably needed them out anyhow; most people don't even need them, right? He isn't sure. He's not a doctor.

But Dave seems to be a rather good nurse. Kurt has a post-surgical fever, common for when the body is trying to regulate itself again. So Dave is keeping cool cloths on Kurt's forehead, and keeps spoon-feeding him since Kurt feels too drained to bother feeding himself. All he wants to do is sleep.

So his boyfriend lets him sleep, even singing softly to him to get him to fall asleep. Dave isn't in the club, but Kurt made him swear before he went under surgery that if he couldn't sing by Regionals, Dave would take his place so that New Directions could still qualify. And Dave had agreed, because ever since he was accidentally Outed by Azimio (who has apologized repeatedly since then, and even keeps the bullying by other students toward Dave down by being his usual bullying self to protect his friend), he's stuck closely to Kurt, so close that, at one point, they fell into a relationship that was further than friends.

When Kurt wakes the following morning, he ventures downstairs and plans not to speak, to save his energy. But when he walks into the kitchen, Dave is there, chatting it up with Burt and having a morning coffee.

"You're still here?" Kurt whispers in surprise (but not by choice; he would have said it much loud, perhaps exclaimed it in embarrassment, if his voice would allow it).

"He wouldn't let me send him home," Burt grins, clearly amused, but mostly happy that Kurt has someone like Dave to care about him. "He kept insisting that I let him take care of you. The boy is damn near making me lose my father-and-nurse title."

Dave blushes almost imperceptibly, his eyes trained to his mug of coffee. "I'm just trying to help, that's all. And my parents don't mind, since it's Spring Break. As long as I'm not off drinking, doing drugs, or having sex, they could care less. So I figured I might as well be of some help, you know?"

Burt eyes his son's boyfriend warily. "I'm especially opposed to that third one. That's why I made you lseep down here on the couch."

Dave laughs, his blush more prominent, now. "Yeah, I know." He glances up, his mug being raised to his lips. "So, did you sleep okay, Kurt?"

"Yes, just fine, thank you," Kurt murmurs. He moves over to the table and takes a seat, his father handing him a cup of coffee already prepared the way Kurt likes it: minimal sugar, plenty of half-and-half cream. "I don't want to talk much, though."

"That's fine, I figured you wouldn't. That's why your dad got a bunch of movies and you 'n' I are gonna watch 'em all. He's gonna go out again later to get you some ice cream and stuff, and until your throat feels better, it's nothing but soft foods like mashed potatoes."

"That's right. In fact, David made a list of all the foods his parents made his older sister eat when she got her wisdom teeth out. He's my number one helper with you right now, son; you should keep 'im," Burt jokes.

Kurt smiles warmly. He looks over at Dave and reaches out to touch his hand. "I plan to, Dad."


	6. Say Uncle

**Prompt by **Yoshi12370 **of Tumblr: **"Kurt finds out that Dave is ticklish."

**Title: **Say Uncle

**Rating:** T

**Genre: **Humor, Romance

**Summary:** There are a few spots, see, where David Karofsky is _very_ ticklish when touched in the right way… And really, it's Dave's fault, because you should _never _tell someone that you are ticklish, even if you don't specify where. (It's even worse, because then they _look _for it…)

**Timeline: **Some time over the summer before senior year/season 3. AU after Prom Queen. Blaine – since I hear from one source that he's a senior when Kurt's a junior, and then hear from other sources that he's a junior like Kurt, I decided to just pick one that would work for this – graduated, and because of that, he told Kurt that he had to "temporarily" end their relationship.

* * *

><p>Kurt settles down beside Dave in the grass, waiting for the Lima fireworks display to kick into full gear. People are spread out everywhere below them in a dip of ground, but they are perched far above them on a hill in another property. It's Kurt's favorite spot, and he and the rest of the gleeks are all present, their family somewhere down below.<p>

"I'm glad that you decided to come out to your dad at the end of the year," Kurt murmurs as he adusts his seating to cross his legs at the ankle where they are stretched out before him. His palms dig into the grass off to the sides behind him as he leans back. Dave is sitting pretzel-style, leaning back on one hand, his gaze elsewhere, even when Kurt looks at him. "I'm proud of you."

Dave glances over finally, a timid smile trying to touch his lips. "Thanks, Kurt. It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. I just wish my mom was here. I think she would've been just as okay with it as my dad was. Because all he really said to me was, 'I had my suspicions when your bullying was specifically toward Kurt. Thank you for telling me, son.' And you know, I think that's all I needed to hear. Although I wish I weren't as obvious, but I gues si would be to my own dad, huh?"

Kurt nods, smiling a bit. "Yeah. Still, it's progress. You're getting there, and I'm happy for you. You look like you've dropped some of that burden that you've been carrying on your shoulders."

The jock nods, glancing away, his eyes on the sky, still waiting for the first spark. He sighs. "But what do I do now, Kurt? I don't think I could handle the school knowing. I just… I want…" And he fumbles with his words, unsure what he's asking for.

The soprano shrugs. "How about you try opening up and making some friends who aren't bullies? I'm sure half of the Glee Club would like to get to know you better. I know I do. There's a lot more to you than can be seen."

At first, the taller boy doesn't respond. He squirms, finally choosing to lie back onto the grass, his hands behind his head, legs slightly apart. Kurt follows suit, choosing to keep his hands laced above his diaphragm. He turns his head, but all he sees is Dave's profile, and with his profile alone, Kurt can't make out all of his new friend's emotions.

"Well, for starters, I guess I could tell ya that I like math. Some people really hate it, but numbers make sense to me. They never change, and there's always a right answer, and nothing is wishy-washy. It's all… stable, clean-cut, factual. I like that, because while I have to think to figure out a problem, I don't have to question it. Unlike… other things," Dave says softly. He lowers one arm ad looks Kurt in the eye. "And then there are really stuoid things about me that no one would expect, y'know? Like… well, I think piano music sounds awesome. Some of my favorite things are simple, like the smell of fresh-cut grass or skating out on the ice or the texture of a football. And then I'm really ticklish in random places; alwauys have been, since I was a kid. My mom used to always make a Tickle Monster game out of it." And he smiles fondly at some memory, his eyes returning to the sky as the first pop sounds and the first firework goes off.

Kurt grins as the colors of the firework – red, yellow, white – light of his face. He props himself up on his elbow and peers down at Dave until the other boy locks gazes with him. "You just made a huge mistake, David."

If it weren't for Kurt's grin, Dave would be afraid that he had wronged the other boy again. Instead of looked worried, though, _because _there's that grin, Dave simply looks confused and curious. "What'd I do?"

"You told me that you were ticklish. You're _never _supposed to tell someone whether or not you're ticklish. It's like a spy when they're being interrogated, or a crook when they've been caught by the police: it's information that _can be used against you._" And he leans down slightly, making David tense in the grass.

"Wait, Kurt, you're not going to –"

"_Tickle Monster attack!_" and Kurt pounces, fireworks exploding behind him, but it's not like they are something he hasn't seen before. Lima has nearly the same exact low amount of fireworks each and every year. Boring. This is _way_ more fun.

The big, strong jock literally screams, his holler a caught-off-guard, low-pitched yell that is just barely drowned out by the fireworks above. A few of their peers glance over, but none pay much mind. The other Glee Clubbers nearby see nothing wrong with Kurt suddenly tackling his former bully; a few (like Santana) have sense the sexual tension forever, and others (like Finn and Artie) suppose it might be payback for the bullying. Whatever the reason, they all assume, it doesn't matter. And besides, the fireworks are much more interesting to watch than two boys wrestling (well, not for Brittany. She loves it when boys wrestle, so she watches and cheers Kurt on with a giggle in her voice).

"Kurt, wh-what – what the _Hell, _dude? S-stop! Gah! D-don't, I'm serious! And not with everybody –!"

Dave's protests go ignored as Kurt tries wriggling his fingers under Dave's arms, his nails creeping like spiders down Dave's torso, his fingertips brushing under Dave's chin and smoothing other his earlobe. He finds that most of these places are extremely ticklish, making the bigger boy suddenly reduced to a babbling, laughing, spasming mass of goo. He can't control himself from making faces and noises as Kurt looks for common ticklish places.

"Say, 'uncle,' David, and I might stop!"

"Uh-un-_uncle,_ UNCLE!"

He attacks behind Dave's knee with little rubs from his fingers, the underside of Dave's foot with scattered scraping of his nails. With a laugh, Kurt says, "Haha, nope, changed my mind. Say, 'Kurt, I'm totally never denying my sexuality or anything you tell me ever again!' and I'll stop for real this time."

"K-Kuh... Ah, haha, stop, please, I-I can't - K-Kurt, I'm t-totally... Gah! I-I can't say all th-that when – haha, ah haha–!"

The soprano even lets his hand wander up Dave's thigh and over his hipbone where his shirt rides up and his jeans are tugged down. But it's this last motion that makes Dave freeze in place, his back arching and his eyes looking away, hands no one shoving Kurt gently off, but instead clutching the ground.

And Kurt stills, too, because he realizes that doing that isn't ticklish, per se… it's more… _arousing. _

Jumping back to his original spot on the grass (well, actually, his tiny blanket to protect his clothes that's spread out on the grass) as if he had been burned, Kurt feels heat rise to his face in a furiously embarrassed blush, and he murmurs just loud enough under the fireworks for Dave to hear: "I should have taken that 'keep your hands to yourself' lesson from kindergarten more seriously. Uh, sorry, David."

"Er… it's okay," Dave mumbles, straightening himself and subtly scooting away. He feels uncomfortable in more ways than one. "Let's just… watch the rest of the fireworks."

Kurt nods dumbly, but doesn't fully return his gaze to the sky like Dave until he's glanced at the jock. A small smile touches Kurt's lips without anyone noticing, not even Kurt.


	7. Out of Spite: M RATED

**Prompt by** dorydafish **of Tumblr and FF.n, and **penguinswithguns **of Tumblr:** _Dory_ – "REVENGE SEX. Like their boyfriends cheated on them or something." **(Hmm, possibly related to a fic you wrote once, except this time with sex?)** _Penguin _– "Kurt and Dave doing that 69 thingy." **And then, because of my conversation with MaxineRose, we decided that it should be in a public place.**

**Title:** Out of Spite

**Rating:** Um, fucking _M. _**Like a lot. This is the whole reason why the entire fic itself is rated M on the 'site.**

**Genre:** Romance, some Angst

**Summary:** After college, Kurt can't stand Blaine's cheating ways any longer, and Dave is having way too many boy troubles himself. They stumble across one another and decide that, despite their current relationships with others, it's time for a little payback. (Getting a dose of your own medicine really sucks, huh, Blaine?)

**Timeline:** TOTALLY AU and future-based and unlikely, haha. _…Really, it's just for the pr0nz._

**Additional note: **This is probably the dirtiest thing I have ever written besides a fivesome/orgy. But, like. Whatever. At least the people in the orgy were all in love and it was for crack/the lulz. This one is... _different.  
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><p>I run into him at the mall of all places.<p>

I'm tragically back in Lima for a while, my career on hold until I can get enough money to support myself after all of the debt college left me in. But it was worth it. It was all so very worth it.

Still, that leaves me shopping in these stores again; dismal, now, compared to the stores in California, where I went to school to study fashion designing and interior decorating. I figured those businesses would land me more stable jobs than Broadway might.

Anyway, it's in American Eagle that I run into him, the one and only Dave Karofsky, someone from high school I could _never _forget. He's at the cash register, the only employee in sight (must be a slow day or shift for there to be no one else around), and he acts like he doesn't recognize me as I ring up my purchases. He even asks for my number for the store benefits, as if I were just anyone!

But as soon as our fingers touch when he hands me by receipt and change, I _need_ to say something.

"Dammit, David, I haven't seen you since graduation and this is how you treat me? Acting like you don't know me?" I sigh in frustration, my irritation evident in my undertones.

Dave makes a face, and, glancing around, steps from around the register. "Sorry, Kurt. I just… wasn't sure if you wanted me to… I mean, I didn't know if –"

"What, if I still wanted to associate with you? Don't be ridiculous, Dave! You might've been my bully for a couple years, but you redeemed yourself. We were _friends _by the end of high school, for cripes' sake! The least you could do is say 'hi' to me."

He lowers his gaze, fiddling with a loose thread on his clothes. He's dressed nicely, in the store's clothing. He probably gets hefty discounts that he takes advantage of. "I really wasn't even sure if it was you, I had been about to say. I mean, you look mostly the same, but… I dunno, I thought you were in Cali." He glances up at me again, his expression softer. "But it's good to see you."

I smile a bit. "It's nice to see you, too, David. I… I missed you, actually. I liked having your awkward, jocky self around. Which reminds me: how have things been for you since graduation? I heard you went to the University of Iowa for a while. Did that stick?" I shift my weight from one foot to the other, none-too-subtly eyeing some places to sit down near the changing rooms.

"Yeah, it stuck. I got a degree and stuff. I'm training to become a math teacher. Pre-Calc and Calculus. But there were no decent jobs in Iowa, I was homesick, and so… I came back here to finish out my student teaching and hopefully get hired at McKinley. Figgins is still there, and he loves alumni." Dave cracks a smile. "Want to move over to the chairs near the changing rooms? This place isn't busy, and someone else should be coming in soon enough to take over. I wanna talk to you."

"Oh, sure; I had been about to suggest the same thing myself," I quip with a smile. I follow his lead and take the chair across from him, opting to scoot myself closer so I can get a good look at him. "So, Dave. I don't mean to pry, but…" I lower my voice to a whisper, "Are you out of the closet to someone other than your dad or the old members of New Directions?"

The former jock sighs and leans back in his chair, a hand running through his lightly curled brown locks. "Not around here, at the mall. I didn't want that information to fuck up y chances getting a job, you know? Because it can. Some people don't like to hire certain kinds of people, you know? It's against human rights and all that, but it still happens. It's just done to seamlessly that no one notices or cares." He looks back to me again. "But yeah, more people know. Most of Lima, I'd expect. Anyone close to me, like friends and family. They're all okay with it, as far as I can tell. I dunno, some of them might be hiding their discomfort, but I don't give a shit anymore." He pauses, then asks, "How have things been for you? I keep talking about myself, and it's getting old."

I scowl and clench my fists in my lap. My head darts to the side as I direct my glare at something else so not to offend or worry him too much. "I'm having intense boy troubles, as a matter of fact. Blaine keeps cheating on me and lying about it to cover his tracks, but enough is enough. I want to break up with him, but I'm afraid he won't learn his lesson. He just seems to catch the eye of any person he meets. Originally, I thought it was teenage uncertainty, like he tried with this guy Jeremiah and then Rachel Berry before settling with me. Because it must have been 'settling with' if he needed to 'get some' from other people. I give him what he wants, but he always wants more, and I'm sick of the lies and pain."

Dave's face turns immediately empathetic with my story. He leans forward and suddenly takes my hand, and I have to do a double-take at the look in his eye. He tells me, "I know how you feel Kurt. God, I know how you feel. I… Well, it took me a while, but I finally started dating people. Guys, not beards like Santana and one or two girls in college. But every guy I date either only wants free sex that they don't return the favors of, or they cheat on me, or they just 'settle' with me, too, because they don't want to bother to get to know me, and yet they don't want to be alone." He releases my hand and sighs heavily. "Dating sucks unless you're with someone who actually cares about you. And you only get that with friends or something, I hear."

A terribly wicked, incredibly genius idea comes to mind. My spirit perks right up, and I sit up straighter in my chair. Leaning forward slightly, I say with a hint of a smile in my voice and a quirk to my eyebrow, "We're friends, though, David. And the guys you've been with, and then Blaine for me… they deserve to be taught a lesson, and get a taste of their own medicine, the kind of dirty, back-stabbing, cheating medicine they dish out to us."

He blinks; startled, intrigued, and cautious. "…Uh, just what are you getting at, Kurt?" he says softly, his throat clearly having gone dry with the implications. And why not? I mean exactly what he thinks I mean.

I slide off my chair and kneel on the rug on the floor of the store, my hands falling to his knees as I keep eye contact where I'm situated in front of him. "Are you in or out, Karofsky?" I challenge.

His eyelids immediately droop, and he reaches a hand up to cup the side of my face. "You know I'm in," he breathes, his breath hot on my face. A shiver of thrill runs through me, the dangerous kind when you know you're about to do something risky and wrong, yet don't care.

I don't read too much into his response; I know there must be a reason why he's so readily "in," but I shove the doubt in my head aside as I initiate the first kiss.

But my lips barely get the chance of pressing to his before he snaps out of it and pushes me by the shoulders to ride to my feet. "Not out in the open, Kurt. I… I don't want to lose my job. C'mere," he says, and takes me by the hand into one of the changing stalls, the sort that lock from the outside. He has a key, lets us in, and closes the door behind us. "There aren't any cameras in here, only ones in the front of the store to prevent shoplifting, so it's safe."

"Good," I say in my huskiest tone as I lean up against him and trail a finger down his throat. His breath hitches, and I go on, "Because I really want to be able to tell Blaine all about my 'sexploits' with you and make him hurt like he hurt me. I can be a vengeful bitch when I want to be."

"And what about me? Do I get anything out of this besides revenge and momentary pleasure? I didn't agree to this just to 'help a brotha out,' Kurt. I'm not afraid anymore to say that I like you."

My forced lust vanishes in a second. Even Blaine has never directly told me that he loves me or anything, only ever, 'I'm crazy about you,' or 'I like being with you.' Never anything remotely close to him actually liking me for me, nothing like what Dave is saying. My face softens for a moment, but then I swallow and lift my chin, my hands curling into the collar of Dave's shirt. "Well, I wouldn't be doing this with you unless I liked you, too, David. And maybe, after I break the delicious news to Blaine, we can get together, because I know we deserve better than what we have. But for right now, I just want to fuck you."

Something changes in his face the instant I utter those last six words, particularly the final two. He grabs me roughly by the hips and crashes me to his chest, and I groan a little at the contact. His mouth seeks out my mouth, and I don't make him have to find it. I suckle his bottom lip and slide my tongue into his mouth, and he whimpers in a hushed tone and starts massaging my ass with his long fingers.

I mewl despite myself, my hands rubbing over his sides and my nails raking down his back over his shirt while our tongues compete with one another for control. But I think Dave lets me win at some point, because as I slide my hands up his shirt between us, he makes a humming sound and lets me do whatever I want with the inside of his mouth.

It's an odd thing to think, but he tastes good. A bit like the soft pretzels they sell in the mall, but mostly like lemonade, tangy and sweet. I roll my tongue around his and try to suck up all the flavor, memorize it. His hands slip into my jeans, the sensation of bare fingers on the skin of my rear sending sparks of arousal through me.

Dave, I take note as my brain starts to get fuzzier, is _extremely_ warm. Heat flows from his skin like it would radiate from a space heater, and I'm always a little cold (it's one of three reasons why I dress in multiple layers all the time, the other two reasons being fashion and discomfort with showing skin to others), so he feels good as I yank his shirt up and away and bury myself in his chest, my mouth attaching to whatever scrap of skin I touch first.

"_God,_ Kurt…" Dave gasps, his hands untucking my shirt from my pants and trying to tug it over my head as my mouth works wonders on blemishing his skin with bruises.

"God has nothing to do with it, David. It's just _you_ and _me._ And you need to be _quiet_," I add, "Because we _are _in a public place." I lean back, smirking, and remove my shirt for him, loosely folding it in the air and tossing it onto the bench in the back of the changing room stall. I peer over Dave's shoulder and suddenly realize that there's a mirror on that wall, and a shudder runs through me. The air conditioned air isn't helping, either.

"You sure look cold," Dave teases, reaching up to rub the warm pads of his thumbs over my nipples. I hiss in response, leaning into his touch. He brings me close so that I can get warmer with his body heat. "Lemme fix that for you," he whispers.

Another shiver, this time due to a tingle of arousal zapping my groin. I press into him more, my hands attempting to undo his belt. I want to feel him; I want to know what I'm up against, since something tells me that I will like every part of Dave more so than what I already know.

Dave helps me with his belt and proceeds to unzip my fly and undo the top button. He curses my skinny jeans, because unlike his pants that fall easily to the ground, mine have to be stripped off. He does it jerkily, his hands shaking, and once my jeans are at my ankles and his head is barely inches below my clothes erection, I stop thinking. My heart skips a full three beats, my lungs deflating of air.

Dave peers up at me, one of his arms snaking behind my knees. I wobble, about to fall, my breath coming back to me as I gasp, and my heart returning to it usual beating as soon as our eyes connect. His free hand slides up my hairless thigh (I have to shave my legs if I want my skinny jeans to go on properly) and the thumb hooks under my boxer-briefs. I exhale shakily as he starts to slide the fabric down, his hands still trembling.

"Wait," I say, grabbing his hand.

Dave's eyes flash with concern. "Are you having second thoughts? I'll stop. I don't want you to regret –"

I bring him to his feet, smiling meekly. "No, it's not that. You first, that's all. I have an idea." I strip off my socks – they are so inconvenient and awkward, and besides, there's carpet in here – and move to do the same for Dave. I can't remember when we removed our shoes – perhaps around the same time as our pants? – but soon everything is gone, and we're both naked before each other, standing proud below, but both ducking our heads above.

He seems more hesitant than I am. I step closer and bring his left hand to my face, his thumb slipping past my lips. My other hand automatically guides itself to his waist, and I palm his hip and the top of his thigh. "Do you trust me?" I ask him, feeling cliché but not caring.

He nods. We're still speaking lowly so not to get caught. "Yeah, of course. Why?"

"Lay down on the floor." I bend down and scoop up all of our clothes, tossing them onto the bench. I make sure that his head is opposite the mirror. He looks up at me, and at first, I lay parallel to him, my mouth kissing along his jaw as I carefully keep my member away from his. He's bigger than I am, naturally, but I don't mind, not in the least. I like it, in fact, and it's difficult to keep my hips in check from rutting against him. Instead, I carefully balance myself and move to kiss his lips, tug gently at his hair, and lick my way slowly down his chest, stopping to suck a pert bud or dip my tongue into his belly button to tickle him.

But when I'm eye-level with my initial goal, I glance up at him before even touching him. His face is flushed, he's already starting to sweat a little near his temples, and his hazel eyes are like molten lava, like burning embers, like rich fire. I feel the beginnings of pre-come dare to bubble up just from looking at how much he wants me. I've never felt that before, not this intensely, and it makes me ache with desire.

Winking at Dave (who just frowns minutely in puzzlement), I turn my back to him and slide upward, realization dawning on him. He makes a low, soft-as-possible, drown-out moan and immediately grips my thighs just above my knees. I look up, seeing myself straddling a pair of legs above a tempting member in the mirror, and it's all I can do not to moan out loud.

"Ready?" I say breathlessly.

Dave places a tender kiss at the base of my thigh beneath my right cheek, and then another on the inner thigh of my left leg. "Yes," he murmurs, his voice a deep rumble that I feel in my very core. A shiver runs just beneath the skin this time, and I can't wait any longer.

I duck my head and wrap my lips around the tip, my tongue darting out to taste him. Dave is… somehow muskier, _manlier _than Blaine had been in memory, and with him, I feel less insecure when I'm pleasuring him than when I was with Blaine. Part of me almost wonders why I hadn't done this sooner, even as I swirl my tongue and bring more of David into my mouth, then out again, over and over. But I realize with a quiver of my stomach and brows as Dave takes half of my shaft into his wet cavern that the timing had to be this way for him or else it wouldn't have worked out, and I really like things "working out" the way they are.

I lap up a faint vein, tracing it with my tongue, and part of me hopes that he doesn't mind that I'm uncircumcised. Most people mind, they think it's weird when someone is "natural." But he seems to be taking it just fine, almost knowing exactly what to do to the point where I have to keep pausing on my ministrations on his member because I can't even function with so much pleasure rushing through my nervous system, singling and icily burning and making me want to leak out little noises.

I silence any of those outbursts by coming back to myself and gripping him firmly, thrusting shallowly into his mouth with my hips and simultaneously running my tongue and the ridges of my teeth over him. I'm not very skilled with sucking someone off, though; the most practice I've had is one or two times with Blaine, and then the occasional lollipop. But my insecurities aside, Dave is enjoying himself, if his curling toes are any indication.

It's also distracting to see my mouth take him in and out as easily as I do every time my eyes open and happen to glance up at the mirror on the changing room wall. And I keep singing along with the lyrics of the radio's music overhead inside my mind, and that's distracting, too. But rightfully so; without either one, I might forget where I am and act foolish. (Well, at least, more foolish that fucking someone in a store.)

With an especially hard, cheek-hollowing suck to the head of Dave's member, he makes a muffled cry around my manhood and there's a burst of liquid heat in my mouth. I rear back, not wanting to choke, and feel him spurt onto my hand at the base (which I unknowing have been pumping this whole time, only realizing when I stop to watch him come) and some of it even lands on my throat. I wipe it with the back of my hand, leaning up and hugging my arms when I feel Dave's tongue trail down my length and around a ball, and just when his lips press to a cheek and his tongue flicks out to probe my entrance, I cover my mouth with my sticky hands and have to bite my own tongue to keep from screaming as I reach my climax abruptly.

I stumble over to the side of Dave, my back resting against the bench of the changing room as he stands and wipes his chin, then his chest, which, along with my abdomen, I realize, is covered with my seed. I flush a more brilliant red than I already am, and look away, embarrassed, despite the fact that this had all been my idea.

Dave smiles oddly and moves to take my hands and lick away his own mess, wincing a bit at the mostly-salty taste, but he hadn't winced when he licked my fluids from his hands, I realize. Then, slowly, he helps my jelly legs stand, and he dresses me. Then David dresses himself, fixes my hair for me, and leans in to kiss my swollen lips, then my chin, and then my Adam's apple as I tilt my head back and let him.

I wrap my arms around his neck and sigh blissfully. "That was wonderful," I whisper in his ear. His lips gently press to my neck, then my ear. He pulls back enough to wrap his arms around my waist and hold me there for a moment or two.

"And not a one-time thing, I hope?" he says jokingly, but I can hear the truth in the word 'hope.'

I grin. "Of course not, David. I got payback for Blaine's cheating, and with it, I'm positive that I've found someone better for me."

His eyes shine gratefully, and he brings me tightly against him for a thankful embrace.

"Cool," he utters as he pulls away. "Now let's see if we can't sneak out of here without being too suspicious."

He exits first, and as I wait a minute or so before exiting myself, I pick up my purchase and let it hang limply from my hands. I swing it idly, a smile stuck on my face. Then, after a short while, I exit the changing room stall, see Dave casually at the register, still no customers or other employees in sight (thankfully) and I march right out of the store.

I'm sure Dave will use the phone number I gave him to call me later. And I'll be looking forward to it.


End file.
